Mothers
by Natsu Naito
Summary: Sterek - "Tell me about your mother."


"Tell me about your mother."

An odd question. A question that caught Stiles a bit off guard. A little more than a bit. Enough that he dropped the comic book he held, his eyes had widened to resemble the cliche description of saucers, or perhaps that of bulging bug eyes, and he was just staring at the male before him, several thoughts and images racing through his mind.

He stared for a while. His eyes eventually returned to normal, if not slightly downcast, but his comic book remained on the floor. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. At a loss for words, the Stilinski boy couldn't think of how to process his thoughts or feelings, couldn't categorize them appropriately. How would he ever describe his mom? How could he assign certain words or thoughts or feelings to the woman that had created him?

"She was nice." A whisper. An answer that was so pathetically simple that he was ashamed of it. He knew more words. He knew plenty of adjectives that could fit her so much better than that, but he still could only think of 'she was nice'. It was a disgrace.

Derek just looked at him with understanding eyes. Because he knew what the kid was going through, understood that with all the words and descriptions and images, nothing could ever come close to describing a mother. He knew that very well. So he didn't push him, didn't scoff. He just stood there, waiting until Stiles said more.

"She would read me stories. She was actually the reason I got into comic books. All her tales of heroes and everything... I always wanted to be the hero. I wanted to save someone. She made me believe that I could. Even when I was a fool and got laughed at, everything was okay with her there. She was beautiful. One night, I promised that if she ever needed saving, I would be there. The hero always has to take care of his mom. But I... but she-" His words broke off, unable to speak any more without breaking down into tears.

_I couldn't save her._

Sitting down beside the teen, Derek wrapped his arms around the scrawny body, pulling him closer and trying to comfort him, even if he wasn't entirely sure how. He wasn't used to trying to make anyone feel better, wasn't used to allowing them to be this close to him. But if he hadn't done this, he knew he would have felt worse. That was the way it almost always was with Stiles. He did things he normally wouldn't because it just felt wrong to not do certain things.

And apparently, it was the right thing to do. Stiles nuzzled his face into Derek, just accepting the warmth after talking about his mom. He tried to avoid the topic, tried to keep happy and sarcastic and just pretend he was fine. But nightmares still happened, the wonder and horror and just plain ol' 'I miss my mom' thoughts were still there.

"I miss my family, too."

The whisper shocked the teen, and he looked up slightly. The werewolf was looking away, eyes thoughtful and saddened as he struggled to find words to explain all that was rushing through his mind, just as Stiles had done just a few minutes before.

"My mom was always there to help. Through the girlfriends, the typical teenage stuff accompanied with all the added difficulties. She made me feel normal. I remember my mother messing with my hair because it was never quite right, or wiping something off my face. I was the messy kid, the kid who did dangerous stunts and the kid who tried to rebel. And I guess that was pretty understandable, but she still worried a lot. She... didn't like Kate, got a weird feeling from her. My mom... I wish I had realized she was always right..."

Derek didn't cry. He didn't gasp for breath, didn't show how overwhelmed with regret and guilt and all that hatred he held for himself. He didn't let it show in his actions or in his eyes, but Stiles could feel it. And the boy wrapped his arms close around him with no hesitation, pulling the elder man into him to give him warmth and comfort. Because no matter how much he denied or hid it, he needed this.

For a while, they stayed like that. Wrapped in each other's arms, holding onto what they had in that moment as they tried to stay afloat with the memories and feelings crashing in, trying to drown them. But they had each other, and no matter how much they would later deny it, they needed this.

Cause no matter how broken they were, moments like these managed to fix them.


End file.
